


Little Hope (Or Conversations With Estel)

by Dorkangel



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Conversations, Fetus Aragorn is a BAMF, Gen, Plotless, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1669274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorkangel/pseuds/Dorkangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots that centre around Aragorn and Bilbo, exploring Aragorn's relationships with the other people in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Hope (Or Conversations With Estel)

**Author's Note:**

> (Or Conversations With Estel)  
> Age-bending again! According to the movies, as they never really mention an exact age in the book, he's in his nineties, making him in his thirties when the events of the Hobbit occurred. But that's boring, so I've made him about twelve

.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield arrived in Rivendell under very unexpected circumstances. Being chased by orcs, for example, was not expected. Ending up anywhere near an elf was also quite a bit of a surprise, and not a pleasant one by Thorin's account.  
Bilbo was happy with it though. He was delighted to see the elves, and the fabled valley of Imlardis at that, and so was Ori and some of the other more scholarly types, I think, though they'd never admit it.  
After the dinner - which most of them blatantly refused to eat because it involved suspicious amounts of vegetables - some of the dwarves had crafted a neat little campfire from some of Lord Elrond's more expensive furniture and were singing and telling stories and throwing things and doing all the things dwarves do in these situations.  
Bilbo had seen quite a lot of what dwarves do in 'these situations' on the way there, and quite frankly wanted no part of it.  
Instead he wandered around the elvish halls, delighting at the architecture and the grace and simply the differences between Hobbit things and Dwarf things and Elf things.  
But not all things, it seemed, were different.  
As Bilbo wandered unknowingly past Lord Elrond's study, he heard voices and paused, listening.  
"...and you mean to say that it was not you three that stopped the cooks from making the dwarves any meat dishes?"  
"No father." chorused three other voices, exactly in time with each other.  
"And it was not you who tried to mess around with their sleeping arrangements?"  
"No father."  
"And you are absolutely certain that you were not carrying this mud around the top floor in the hope that you could dump it one of the dwarves?"  
"No father- I mean, yes we are sure!"  
"We would not do such a thing!"  
"We're shocked!"  
Bilbo heard Lord Elrond sigh. "And why were you on the top floor? With the mud?"  
They paused. "It was for Glorfindel?" tried one of them hesitantly.  
"And what did you intend to Glorfindel to do with it?"  
"For his skin."  
"Good for the skin, mud."  
"Stop him getting wrinkles."  
They were clearly trying to contain their giggles at the last suggestion. "Glorfindel lives with the blessed life of the Eldar. Why on Middle Earth would he need mud for wrinkles?"  
And then it snapped and one of them broke into barely contained laughter. "Ah, Estel." chided one.  
"You have given us away!"  
Still laughing, the offending 'Estel' seemed to be struggling to say something. "But, but - hahahahaha - A-Ada has wrinkles!"  
And all three of them collapsed into paroxysms of hilarity and Bilbo heard Elrond sigh again. "Are you three quite finished?"  
"Tancave, Ada."  
"Yes, Father."  
"Yes Father. Are we in trouble?"  
"Why would you be in trouble?"  
"Well, for trying to throw the mud on the dwarves and-"  
"Estel!"  
"Estel, Garich I dhôl goll o yrch."  
"Elrohir, do not be so rude! No, you are not in trouble. For now. Get out."  
At this point, Bilbo remembered to move: he didn't want to be caught eavesdropping.  
Three boys emerged from the study, concealing their smiles behind grave faces. Two of them were elvish, clearly, tall with straight black hair, and if they were humans than they would probably be in their twenties, but being elves, they were certainly older. And they certainly acted younger.  
The other boy was much smaller.  
And... human. He had wavy dark hair down to his shoulders (though not as dark as the two elves') and grey eyes, and he was dressed in Elvish clothes.  
"Elladan, we should- oh. Hello."  
He had seen Bilbo. "Uh, hello."  
"Hey," started one of the elves evilly. "Estel, go play with the halfling-"  
"-he's about the same size as you-"  
"-yeah, little people stick together-"  
"-have fun!"  
They pushed the younger human quickly in the direction of the hobbit and ran off, laughing. Estel went bright red and tried, pretty much unsuccessfully, to not fall into Bilbo.  
He ducked his head shyly and smiled. "M'name's Estel. They're my brothers."  
"Broth- gosh."  
Estel's smile faded and he blushed even deeper. He spoke in a flat voice. "Lord Elrond adopted me."  
"I'm sorry for offending, Master Estel. My name is Bilbo Baggins."  
"You are not a dwarf then?"  
"No, not at all! I am a hobbit of the Shire."  
"You came with the dwarves."  
"I am employed by them."  
"Oh. Ok. Why?"  
"I can't tell."  
"Is it a secret?"  
"Yes."  
"Alright. I am good at keeping secrets though. Like when Ro and Dan swapped all the salt and sugar and Ada asked who did it and I didn't tell at all. He punished them anyway, though, 'cos it's always them."  
"Ah. They sound like two of the dwarves who are with us. Their uncle is the leader of the company and..."  
He talked with Estel for about an hour until the little boy became extremely bored and wished to climb a tree. If Bilbo had not been watching so closely, he wasn't sure he would have noticed, for he had spent nearly his entire life being trained in Elvish manners.

After Estel bowed politely and left, running towards the woods on the hillside, he ran (quite literally) into Gandalf.  
"Oof!"  
The wizard gripped the boy's shoulders and pushed him back to look at his face.  
Now, Gandalf had always heard a lot about the miraculous young Estel, the human child brought up as Lord Elrond's son, but he had not seen him since he was about three.  
Estel had, in his turn, heard a lot about the wizard Mithrandir. Unfortunately, Elrohir and Elladan had rather exaggerated Mithrandir's powers, and at the unmistakable sight of the wizard, he visibly paled and squeaked.  
"Mithrandir! I'm sorry!"  
"It's quite alright," came Gandalf's slow, kind voice. "It was an accident. Now, you must be Estel!"  
"Yes sir."  
"Have you seen your father about?"  
Estel hesitated. He did not want to admit to causing trouble but... "He was in his study?"  
"At this time of day?"  
"Me and Dan and Ro were messing with the dwarves..."  
"Ah. What were you doing?"  
Estel looked up, miserable and frightened. This was it: Mithrandir was going to turn him into a frog and throw him into Mount Doom!  
"We fed them vegetables and moved all their things and we were about to throw mud on their heads when Ada caught us, but I'm very sorry, sir, I-"  
"Mud? And where would this mud be now?"  
What a strange question. "It should still be on the roof."  
"And which of the dwarves were you going to throw it on?"  
He shrugged. "Any."  
"Well, that won't do, now will it?"  
This. NOW Mithrandir was going to hurt him, or turn him into a frog, or-  
"I would suggest the big, muscled one with the the bald, tattooed head."  
"Eh?"  
"To throw the mud on."  
"...oh."  
"Come, show me where it is. And was it you that gave them green food? That's very clever..."

The next day, when the company left (Dwalin rather muddy), they passed three wrestling elves.  
The older two, known to most as the twins, were holding a struggling, laughing human boy by the arms, threatening to dump him in the river.  
"No, Elrohir! Elladan! Stop it!"  
Bilbo turned and waved at the boy, smiling. "Goodbye there, Estel!"  
"No no no no- Hey, Bilbo!"  
And then in his moment of distraction, he was finally thrown in the water, but held the thought of Bilbo in his mind.

*Two Years Later*

Bilbo was walking, humming to himself, down the valley of Imlardis and into Rivendell.  
"The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where-"  
"Come, Estel," called a laughing, merry voice. "Come into the trees with us."  
"We promise not to throw you down again!"  
Bilbo moved into view of a teenage boy, dressed in Elvish garb, sitting against the tree, ignoring the upside down heads of two unchanged elf twins from above.  
"I am not so stupid as you, Ro."  
"Me? Stupid?!"  
"Yesterday you- Bilbo!"  
He was very suprised to hearing his name coming from Estel. He had doubted that among so many elves he would remembered.  
"Hello."  
"I- We thought that you must have died in the battle!"  
"No, no. I am quite alright!" he called back, trying to put some cheer into his voice. The twins swung down gracefully from the tree and bowed to Bilbo, remaining silent. "Father would invite you for dinner..." began one slowly.  
"It is getting close to dark." added Estel, and Bilbo nodded, ignoring for the first time in a while the pain of those he'd lost.  
"Alright then. I'll stay for the night, but then I must be off."  
"And where are you going?" asked the other twin.  
"Back home. Back to the Shire."  
The twins exchanged glances. "We will inform Ada of your arrival, Master Baggins."  
And off they went, leaving the hobbit alone with Estel, who, out of some instinct, clambered to his feet and hugged the smaller man.  
"What's wrong? Don't try to bullshit me, Bilbo, I can see something's wrong."

And he told the boy about Kili and Fili and Thorin. And then that they died.  
And I can not say exactly how that conversation went. Or what exactly was said. But I do know that when Bilbo arrived back in Rivendell after his eleventy-first birthday, this happened.

The wizened little hobbit wandered the open halls of Rivendell, much as he had done sixty years before. He had talked with Elrond, of course, but had not asked after Estel. It was quite possible that the happy young human boy had died of old age since then.  
Frodo was lying, recovering, in his room, and Bilbo couldn't tear his mind away from him. What if he wasn't alright? What if he...DIED?  
He was so absorbed in his morbid chain of thoughts that he scarcely noticed as he nearly walked into a tall man.  
"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was goi..." His voice trailed off as he looked up, into grey eyes covered partially by wavy dark hair. "Estel?"  
The man started at the name. "Bilbo?!" Suddenly both grinning, they embraced like old friends, as opposed to virtual strangers who had met only twice, many, many years ago.  
"Valar, Bilbo, no one has called me Estel for fifty years, at least!"  
He frowned. "If that is not your name, then what is?"  
"You speak Sindarin, do you not? Is 'Hope' any name for a child, and a human child at that? My name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. I was brought here as a little baby when my father was killed... I am one of the Dunedain, the men of Numenor." He hesitated, not sure if he should tell the hobbit this, but continued anyway. "I am living in self-imposed exile...otherwise I should be king."  
Bilbo looked hard at Aragorn with his soft eyes. "Sit down and explain," he began. "And I will listen."

Epilogue-  
Aragorn - or King Elessar Telcontar - had meant to say goodbye to Frodo and Gandalf and all the others, but there was no mortal way for him to reach the Grey Havens on time...  
He would most of all liked to say goodbye to Bilbo.


End file.
